Soup Riff

You've all heard the old adage, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." A bit of folk wisdom that doesn't help one little bit when life really is dishing out the sh*t, but cute when all is going well.

It ran through my mind as I was sitting down to my fabu bean soup.

I made it from the soup base that I had begun so hopefully and worked so hard on - and that ended up being more or less tasteless.

To remedy things, all I did was sauté a little chopped onion in a tad of butter, dump in a can of Navy beans and about three can's worth of soup base, then cut up one of my favorite Coleman's hot dogs and immersed the pieces in the soup. When it had all simmered together for long enough to heat the dots of dog and spread their smoky goodness through the soup, it was ready.

It was honestly very, very good. The soup base gave it rich texture and heft, the beans added mild flavor and the hot dog pieces lent their smoky, salty, meaty goodness to the whole. The perfect rainy-day soup, hearty and wholesome and comforting. When life gives you lemons, make bean soup.

Food Porn

Portuguese Bean Soup is another Punahou carnival standard - ya just gotta try it. Waiting in line for our turn, we noted the amusing signs advertising it that were taped to the outside of the booth.

There were signs featuring lovely ladies, too, but for some reason, this one appealed to me.

Soup Lab

Building soup from the bones of a previous meal is a little like working in Dr. Frankenstein's lab. You build from parts you have lying around and hope for the best. It can become a tragedy with a moral about flying too close to the sun or a screwball comedy with belly laughs depending one how things go.

I started a few days ago with two smoked pork chop bones and a little water. The chops had been too salty for our taste, so I didn't finish mine and wasn't overly concerned about adding a lot of diluting water.

After simmering the bones and leftover meat for a few hours, the water tasted hammy but no longer salty. I eighty-sixed the bones and started building from there. It has been cold here, and gray, so soup from the South sounded just right - Mexico, here we come.

First, I softened half a chopped onion and a big pressed garlic clove in a little butter. Sprinkled about a teaspoon each of cumin and chili powder into the pan and cooked until they were fragrant. Then added a can of black beans, about a cup of frozen corn kernels, the shredded meat from the chops, the chop broth and a couple of cups of chicken broth.

When that had simmered together, I tasted the soup and found that it was spicy and tasty but needed salt and something else. The something was about a tablespoon of tomato paste and another of Sartain's Menu Sauce to give it a tad more heat, smoke and body. Next, two small chopped ripe tomatoes from far, far away. And, finally, a handful of corn chips to add crunch to the slurp.

Warm, hearty and sustaining, layer by layer, it brought the warmth of sunshine and light to our winter-chilled souls. OMG, it's alive! It's ali-i-i-i-ive!

Loving This Soup

Last week, I drove up to Petaluma to drop Cora off for her stay at the ultra-luxurious doggie dude ranch and spa. While we were away, she was going to get the full treatment of daily play with other dogs, private sleeping quarters and a shampoo and fluff dry. She may not care to come home after all that fun and pampering.

We stopped for lunch at cousin Jan's house and she served the best black bean soup I have ever tasted, bar none. Jan, being the modest soul that she is, was quite surprised when I whipped out my camera to record the soup for the blog and begged for the recipe.

There is something about these humble ingredients that really sings once you put them together, rather like a choir with all different voices that harmonize wonderfully. I slurped down a big bowl and looked around for more. And since winter is reluctant to give up and let go, it might even be welcome now on a brisk day.

Jan's Black Bean Soup

1 teaspoon olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped coarsely
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
2 cans (15 oz) black beans (she uses low-salt versions)
1 can broth (she used chicken but vegetable or beef also work well)
1 can diced tomatoes (she uses petite cut with onions and garlic, but Italian or Mexican flavors work well, too)
1 teaspoon dried thyme
3 bay leaves
1 teaspoon vinegar (balsamic this time but red or white wine vinegar work, too)
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 small can of corn (or frozen)
taste and, if needed, add a squirt of lemon juice.
Sartain's Menu sauce, to taste (this is a mild chipotle pepper sauce)

Mash up one can of beans until broken and pasty. Sauté onion in oil 'til lightly browned. Add garlic to onions and cook about 1 minute. Add all the other ingredients and bring to a boil. Simmer 8-10 minutes, stirring often.

Very good with cornbread.

Tastes even better if allowed to cool and reheated. This soup is different every time she makes it. You can add any extra vegetables or meats which are left over and make a thicker soup, or stew. As you can see, Jan added a little chopped potato, sliced carrots and Swiss chard.

Adding chili powder and cilantro, top with diced avocado, gives it a Mexican twist. Adding oregano, basil and topping with parmesan cheese gives it an Italian slant. And, of course, a generous pour of Sartain's Sauce with some garlic bread makes it a perfect rainy day food.

Now I Know Why They Use Black Beans For Soup

Because brown beans aren't pretty.

I used the leftover pinto beans from my lamb shanks to make a bean soup, simply whirling them with a tad of extra water in a blender. The beans had absorbed lovely flavor layers from the onions, shallots, carrots, bay leaves, broth, and lamb, so the soup was mighty good, thick and smooth and hearty.

But homely, just mid-brown and boring, like milk chocolate pudding. Even the dab of tzatziki I added didn't do much to make it look pretty, although it did add a nice, fresh flavor and a little texture to the slow-cooked savor of the beans.

Next time, perhaps I'll try the black beans with the lamb shanks, just for fun. Then I'd get pretty soup.